Hold On
by CardioQueen
Summary: AU, begins at the season 3 finale. Burke/Cristina centric with a heavy, heavy helping of the cast. 15,338 words, one shot. Thanks to slybrunette for the beta.


_Hold on,_

_Hold on to yourself,_

_Cause this is gonna hurt like hell._

Her hand shakes when she reaches for the doorknob and she immediately pulls it back. Slowly she raises her hands, palm down, and examines them. She's never had shaking hands before and this isn't the time to start. Shaking hands is weakness, it's emotions becoming physical and she _can't_ do this.

Trying to steady her hand she reaches for the doorknob once more.

Her hand is still shaking.

Her eyes sting, her throat is tight, there's this crushing feeling in her chest, she can't breathe and her goddamn hands are shaking.

Cristina finally manages to push the door open to their apartment and steps inside, her dress making a rustling noise as it drags behind her. The air feels stale, like nobody has lived there for months, which is ridiculous because she was _just_ here this morning.

The apartment is quiet and it bothers her.

It shouldn't bother her because Burke is a quiet person except for when he's playing his trumpet or humming as he cooks dinner for her. To her, it's comforting to sit next to him and hear nothing but the sound of his breathing and the occasional turning of a page when he's reading, to hear his heart beating against her ear as they listen to music and drink wine. The quiet has always been a good thing.

Except for now.

She passes through the stifling space, surveying everything, every piece of the life that they've put together. His trumpet in the corner, her journals scattered across the coffee table, their CDs mixed together (Madonna and Eugene Foote, Diplo and Huey Louis), her scrubcap that used to be his. Tentatively, she reaches out for it and gathers it in her hands (that are still shaking) and she crumples the material between her fingers.

Breathing gets harder and she's trying to keep it together when she hears the door open behind her. The scrubcap falls to the floor and she looks into the bedroom that used to be theirs, _used to be_, and she shakes her head.

Cristina can feel Meredith staring at her, can feel the question that's in her eyes but she doesn't turn to see it. If she sees the concern and the caring and all of the other crap that Meredith can never hide she knows that she'll break.

She's already too damn close as it is.

For the first time since any of this started, Cristina speaks and her voice is much stronger than she thought it would be.

It's much stronger than she feels.

"He's not here."

"Yes," Burke says, standing just a few feet behind her, "I am."

There are three important elements to a basic assessment that budding physicians learn in medical school. These key elements are so basic they're referred to as the A-B-Cs.

Airway.

Breathing.

Circulation.

Burke can see the reddened flesh beneath the choker that once belonged to his mother, can see her skin straining against it. He sees the shallow, rapid movement of her chest beneath the fitted gown. He can see the fight in her fading quickly and he knows _exactly_ how she feels.

"Turn around," he says softly. Despite the fact that his bowtie is choking him, making it even harder to breathe, Burke addresses her needs first. He doesn't want her to hurt, that was never his intention.

Cristina remains frozen before him, her eyes shimmering and her breathing still labored. The first tear spills from her eyes when he reaches around with a delicate touch, fingertips brushing her skin ever so slightly, and unclasps the choker.

It doesn't alter the pattern of her breathing.

He discards the choker on the arm of the couch and encircles her in his arms, blindly feeling for a zipper to free her from the constraints of her dress. It gives easier than he had expected it would and his eyes never leave hers as the loosened bodice slips from her petite frame.

She's not his to look at anymore.

With wet cheeks that she refuses to acknowledge she returns his gesture, loosening the bowtie from his neck, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. Her fingertips trace down his shoulder beneath the jacket of his tuxedo and she eases it off of him until it lands in a rumpled pile at his heels.

Though their hearts are still aching and their airways constricted, their breathing simultaneously evens out. The silence is killing both of them and there's so much to be said but no place to start. The whys and hows and 'what the hell is wrong with you' of it all just won't come out.

Cristina thinks that it's because it makes it final, that it's because the fight that's just brewing beneath the fragile surface that they're on is what _really_ ends it.

She isn't ready for that.

Burke licks his lips slightly, begins to utter an apology that will never be enough but her lips cover his and silences it. Her fingertips are curled into the material of his shirt, holding on because she knows he's going to run. Their lips move together desperately, bodies pressed together for what he knows is the last time.

His fingers snake into her hair, pull at pins and clips and whatever else it is that's taming her wild curls that he loves so much. Finally, her hair falls at her shoulders, brushes the middle of her back and he runs his fingers through it.

The irony of the kiss isn't lost on either one of them; rather than a beginning it is an ending.

When it becomes apparent that she isn't going to pull away from him, Burke forces himself to do it instead. His fingers are curled around her upper arms in a vice grip and he teases their lips apart. An apology is uttered between their lips and the slightest hint of the word 'please' falls from hers.

"Cristina," her name is but a breath from his lips. There's so much to say, yet no words will come.

With a heavy heart, Burke wipes the tears from her cheeks and turns to walk away. What he's doing is for her and he has to remind himself of that. If he didn't, he'd never be able to leave.

"You're supposed to be packing. We're going to miss our flight," Meredith's tone is exasperated, hiding the concern that belies it. She's obviously upset and hurt, pissed off and a whole other host of things that she's not used to being but there's something weird about it at the same time.

Typically Cristina just says she's fine and she moves on, even when she isn't.

This time, it isn't like that.

"Whatever," Cristina mutters, hair hanging over her face. She turns the page on the journal that she isn't reading and continues her charade.

"Do you _want_ to miss our flight? We have two tickets to Hawaii, two weeks off and a high end resort waiting for us. You don't want to miss out on that."

"_You_ don't want to miss out on that," Cristina corrects her. "I'm not going."

This is the fourth time she's said it and Meredith is actually starting to believe her. She sinks next to the woman and pulls the journal from her hand to examine it. "Since when have you cared about neurosurgery."

"It's surgery. It doesn't matter what kind."

"Really? What was the article about?" Meredith presses, glancing at the page to make note of the article on minimally invasive repair of arteriovenous malformations before closing it.

"Why? Are you going to give me a pop quiz?" Cristina shoots back at her, "Aren't you supposed to be packing for Hawaii? We're going to miss our flight."

There's unmistakable sarcasm in her tone and a hint of anger.

Meredith backs down a notch and tosses the journal aside, "I'm packed. I need to get out of here for a couple weeks. I'm surrounded by Derek's crap and I don't want to be. I want to be surrounded by hot, tan men and big fruity drinks with umbrellas."

"I'm not stopping you."

"Cristina," Meredith sighs, "Why? Why don't you want to go? It's not like they're going to let you work. None of us get to work through vacation. They already gave Alex an additional week of unpaid time because he tried to break that rule."

"I'm not going to work," Cristina answers, standing up and walking away from her. She has her reasons for avoiding the trip but she refuses to say it out loud. She refuses to acknowledge the things that she's feeling right now because she's almost sure that they'll subside.

Or at least she hopes that they will.

"And you're not going to Hawaii."

Slightly annoyed by Meredith's pursuit of the subject, Cristina doesn't give her an answer. She pulls a glass from the cupboard and walks over to the refrigerator to fill it with ice. The notion to drink at two in the afternoon is a strong one but she doesn't because alcohol is Meredith's coping mechanism, not hers. Cristina _needs_ to face this with a clear mind because if things get hazy it will be harder to control and control is something she desperately needs to hold onto right now.

She can't lose control.

After a prolonged period of silence (probably the longest one that Meredith is capable of) she speaks again, "At least tell me why you don't want to go."

Cristina's eyes rise slowly and her expression says everything that she won't but she finally grants Meredith with an answer, even if it's just going to inspire more questions eventually. "I'm not giving him an out." What she's not giving him an out from, she hasn't decided yet but she figures that part will come later. The only things that she knows right now are that he's not getting his out and she's not going to Hawaii.

Meredith accepts this, crosses the kitchen and lays her head against Cristina's shoulder. "We're not giving him an out."

The echo of her heels bouncing off the empty hallway announces her arrival long before she ever speaks. Burke is thankful for the alert to her presence because it gives him an opportunity to straighten his posture and clear his throat.

"Addison," he says in a dignified tone without looking up from his chart.

"Preston," she smiles warmly to his back, "how did you know it was me?"

A slight smirk turns up the permanent frown that's ingrained itself in his expression, "You're the only surgeon who wears four inch heels. It wasn't difficult to determine who it was."

"Ah," Addison's smile fades slightly. She pulls off her reading glasses and lets them fall with the Swarovski crystal chain securing them around her neck. "Richard tells me that you're considering leaving."

Exasperation escapes his lips and he finally looks up with an arched eyebrow, "Since when is Richard sharing confidential information with you?"

"Well, I _am_ his successor, Preston. There are certain things he has to share with me, things like the fact that I'm soon to be short the best cardiothoracic surgeon in the nation."

"You'll find another one without difficulty," he replies, closing the chart and setting it aside.

Addison grants him a wry grin, "I doubt that others will find you as easily replaceable as you present yourself to be."

"By others you mean Cristina," Burke concludes, his gaze leveled with Addison's for a split second before he looks up at the clock, to his pager, anywhere but at the woman before him.

"Does she know you're leaving?"

Burke wishes for a fleeting moment that it were in his nature to lie because he would. Addison's criticizing glance and the doubt in her tone are causing second thoughts and he's entertained way too many of those as of late. "No," he finally answers, "she doesn't. I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"Right," Addison says slowly, "and you're going to keep that quiet how? Because I'm not."

"Addison," he starts but is quickly interrupted.

"Preston, you can't just leave without an explanation. What happens when she comes back after vacation to find you gone? Who's going to be left responsible to tell her because I'm certainly not going to."

"Actually, I was going to have Shepherd tell her."

Anger flashes through Addison's eyes and she crosses her arms over her chest, "I think pretty much everybody in this hospital knows how Cristina feels about Derek. She deserves better than that and you know it, Preston. If you can't tell her yourself, you can't leave."

"That's not an option," he says with a shake of his head, "I can't stay here. I think it would be best for her if-"

"If you disappear and have the man that she possibly dislikes most in the hospital tell her that you've left? Not quite," she pauses for a minute and continues, "I'm rejecting your resignation."

His vision shifts from the wall back to Addison, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Preston," she replies pointedly, fidgeting with her glasses. Having an authoritative tone with interns and residents is one thing. Taking it with a man she considers a colleague is most definitely something she's not used to. "I'm rejecting your resignation. If you intend to abandon your position here at Seattle Grace Hospital it is expected that you'll pay the fines and costs associated with ending your contract early. You'll also need to schedule a meeting with the board of trustees to receive your final clearance as I cannot grant that."

"You cannot be serious, Addison," Burke argues. She clearly doesn't understand his reasons for wanting to leave and he wouldn't expect her to. The only person who may have the slightest clue as to how he feels is Shepherd and it's not exactly something he's willing to openly discuss.

"I'm serious," she replies with a hint of anger to hide the unsteadiness of her tone, "and if you think I'm not, attempt to abandon your position here and see what happens. I don't think you'll be happy with the consequences unless you're seeking out early retirement."

Addison takes the opportunity his surprise grants her to leave him standing at the nurses' station. She isn't sure that telling him that he would meet disciplinary action if he left was the most brilliant thing she's ever done but she knows it's enough to make him stay.

At least for now.

Cristina looks up at Alex with narrowed eyes. She had been successful in ignoring the vapid conversation around her, the talking about her right in front of her until he slammed a full bottle of beer down in her line of vision.

"Drink that."

She sneers at him, pushing the beer away. "I don't want it."

"Yeah, well, you're more of an uptight bitch than normal. You need it," his words are a cover for concern. If anybody knows how she feels right now, it's him. Or at least he knows something similar to it.

Too lost in her own thoughts to return his insult, she merely ignores him and the beer.

"I told you that she wouldn't drink it, Alex," Meredith slurs next to her, having hit her limit of tequila before becoming a sloppy drunk seven shots ago. "Burke broke her. Burke broke my friend and if I could find him...well, if I could go to the hospital without getting suspended for a week, I'd break him. Or at least I'd try. I'm sorry I won't go now Cristina because I love you but I don't love you that much."

_I love you but I don't love you that much_.

The words hang in her mind and she almost wants to laugh at herself because it's pretty much what her overanalysis of Burke's words come down to right now. Sometimes she thinks she gets it though, sometimes if she tries really hard she understands it and she hates that she does.

Most of the time, she can't make the connection because none of it makes sense. So what if she said she _thought_ she wanted it. A poor choice of words at the wrong moment and he just gives up their relationship like none of it ever mattered?

Anger burns through her and she reaches out for the beer but then retracts her hand.

Control.

Control is still important.

Alex sees the action and glances at Izzie who, per usual, is droning on about George and Callie. He says her name quietly and once he has her attention, he glances at Meredith and jerks his head in the opposite direction. It takes a couple of gestures for Izzie to finally get it and he's glad that Meredith is three sheets to the wind and doesn't get his actions.

Meredith would just say that if she can't get Cristina to talk that nobody can.

He thinks differently.

"Mer," Izzie says with a smile too bright that contraindicates her bitching and moaning not even two minutes earlier, "let's go to the bathroom. I need to go to the bathroom."

With a drunken giggle, Meredith complies and says something about females needing to go to the bathroom at the same time. She grabs onto Cristina's arm and starts to pull her off the barstool but Alex takes hold of the opposite arm. "She doesn't need to go."

Cristina looks up at him and narrows her eyes, opens her mouth to argue that she can do whatever the hell that she wants (not that she wanted to go) but Meredith is already gone.

Alex takes the chair that Meredith was occupying and takes a swig out of the beer she refuses to touch. There's no point in wasting good beer. "It sucks," he finally says. He doesn't speak girl but Yang isn't exactly a girl so he thinks he can get his point across.

"Then don't drink it," she sighs, sitting up a little bit straighter.

"I'm not talking about the beer."

"I'm not talking about _it," _she adds emphasis to the word it because saying his name feels like razors in her throat. Every time that Meredith has carelessly tossed around his name tonight has left little tiny nicks in her armor which doesn't help because she already feels less than indestructible.

"Fine," Alex says, his voice softer than usual but still firm. "Don't talk about it. Listen," he continues before she can get a word in to tell him to shut up, "you aren't exactly hiding your feelings about the whole thing. Yeah, your trap may be shut for a change but you're still moping."

"I'm not-"

"It's moping, Yang. And it's pathetic. You're pathetic. It's not like he disappeared. It's not like you don't know exactly where he is. You have an opportunity to say everything to him that you want to and you're not. You have a chance to fix it or get over it," he takes another swig of the beer, swallowing down his own pain with the amber liquid. He doesn't have the chance to tell Ava how he felt and he never will. "pathetic," he repeats and this time he doesn't know if he's talking about himself or Ava.

Burke stops just short of the entrance to Joe's, an uneasy feeling settling into his gut. There's no graceful way to bow out of this outing and for a moment, he's okay with selling out the last bit of dignity he has to head back to his apartment.

Derek doesn't let him, "It's not going to kill you to have a drink. It will be good for you to get out, cut loose a little."

His steps are reluctant as he follows Shepherd towards the entrance but he tries to remind him that Cristina and Meredith are in Hawaii (as Derek has reminded him several times throughout the course of the evening in his attempt to persuade Burke to join him) and it's simply a drink.

"Drinks are on me," Derek announces as they enter the bar.

"That isn't necessary," Burke responds, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder, "I should buy you a drink."

Derek grins at this sentiment and shrugs, "I'm not stupid enough to argue with free drinks. Come on, I think I see a table in the corner."

They weave through a sea of people and Burke remembers a time where they had come to this bar separately yet together at the same time. Momentarily he considers how much alcohol he'd have to consume to forget her entirely and very quickly decides that he'd never want to forget her.

He only wants to dull the ache but discovers that fate has other ideas in mind for him. Burke staggers backward and there's a blond woman that's apologizing profusely and he raises his hands to assure her that it's fine.

Until he realizes that it's Meredith that's apologizing.

"Grey?" he asks without even thinking, "I thought you were in Hawaii."

Her eyes narrow at him and her face scrunches and he thinks that she's trying to look threatening but the only thing she's doing is creating a very public display of exactly how inebriated she is. "Does it look like I'm in Hawaii?" There's a hint of bitterness in her voice because she'd kill to be in Hawaii right now with Derek staring her down and she's willing to bet that in about two minutes Cristina will wish she would have just packed her fucking bags.

Burke glances around the bar, traces each form surrounding him until he finds that unmistakable head full of curls, slouched over the bar with Karev sitting next to her.

Dulling the ache is definitely not on tonight's agenda.

"Is she okay?"

"No," Meredith slurs, "she's not okay."

It feels like it's been years since he's seen her when it's only been a matter of days. He's not okay either and he wants to tell her so but he won't. He wants to reach out to her but he won't. Burke's eyes connect with Karev's and Burke doesn't miss the slight nudge that he delivers to Cristina's side or the mumbling of words in her direction.

Meredith starts in on Derek, and Izzie, true to character, situates herself in the middle of the entire disaster. There's no way that she's going to miss this because it's like watching a car wreck in slow motion and it's definitely a distraction from her problems with George.

Burke expects Cristina to turn in his direction any moment now, to flash some display of anger, but it doesn't happen. Instead, she grabs her coat and walks towards the exit of the bar without ever looking at him.

Karev looks at him instead, delivering the same venomous glance that he had expected to see from Cristina. His eyes move to Meredith and she's giving him that same look, even if her features are slightly disrupted by the amount of alcohol in her system.

This is only one of the reasons he wanted to leave Seattle.

Though the decision comes a little late, Cristina has decided that beer probably wasn't the best decision. It's not strong enough or maybe the edge is too strong or maybe she just needs to drink more. She settles for the latter option of the three and twists open the lid to another beer and tosses it down. The cap jumps a couple of times before landing on her pile of journals scattered across the coffee table as she takes a long drink.

She leans against the back of the couch and closes her eyes, trying to focus on anything except the emptiness consuming the apartment. The only reason she can tell that he's been home is because there's food in the refrigerator. The bed is a mess and there are clothes in the hamper. The towel she left on the bathroom floor four days ago is still there.

At least she's not the only one who's been something akin to miserable.

For almost a week she's been trying to figure it all out, find the answer to the infamous phrase 'what happens now?' and by the end of her fourth beer she still doesn't know the answer but she knows that she has to go straight to the source if she's going to get one.

Cristina lifts her fifth beer, untouched, from the coffee table and carries it to the sink to dump it out and drop it in the recycling. The urge comes over her to pick up the crumpled napkin on the table and to throw the carryout carton in the trash. She continues with stacking her journals, picking up her towel and a few other things.

It isn't until after she's done making the bed that she notices Burke frozen in the doorway of their apartment.

"Hi," she says quietly, shifts under his gaze.

"You're cleaning," he observes, "You don't clean."

"It was a mess," Cristina points out, "and you don't make messes."

"I didn't make it on my own."

"In case you've forgotten, I don't live here anymore," She's well aware that part of it was her mess but it's the first shot she's had at him and she isn't letting it pass.

The words clearly affect him because his face drops, "I haven't forgotten."

"Good," she says coldly.

"Cristina," her name almost sounds like a plea to drop it. He's been avoiding the topic just as much as she has. Now she's standing in front of him and he can't avoid it. She's angry with him and he expected it but he didn't want to answer to it.

Another reason he didn't want to stay in Seattle.

"Don't Cristina me. You _left_. You left me standing in a _church_ looking like an idiot. You left me with some crap line about me not wanting to marry you and I did. I would have. I _wanted_ to. What I didn't want was some frilly crap dress or for your mother to try to strangle me with a family heirloom. What I didn't want was to try to ramble in front of 500 of your closest family members about how much I love you or whatever because it's none of their damn business-" Cristina doesn't know what she's saying and she doesn't really know where she's going but she continues anyway, "You never listen to me."

"And you never speak," he says in a forceful tone, "I have to drag everything out of you, Cristina."

"Why the hell would I tell you anything when you never listen to me in the first place?" she snaps back, "I said that I thought I wanted it. That wasn't good enough for you so what? You just leave? You just give it all up just like that?"

"It's for your own good," Burke says, turning away from her. "You didn't want it."

"Goddammit, Burke!" Cristina lurches forward and grabs onto his arm, "I just said I wanted it. Is English not your primary language?"

"You weren't coming, Cristina!" He's finally lost his cool, "I was standing there waiting for you in front of everybody and you weren't coming. What the hell was I supposed to think?"

"I _told_ you it was a momentary freak out. I had a thing and I was fine, I told you I was ready-"

"You weren't ready. You never will be. If you were ready you could at the very least elaborate on what the _thing_ was, Cristina."

"What the hell does it matter what the thing was? I still said I wanted it. Or were you too hung up on my thing to hear that part?" She yells before pushing past him into the kitchen. _Now_ it's time for a beer. She pulls one from the refrigerator and throws the lid into the trash can. Apparently he had other plans because he's moving close to the front door and she steps between him and it. "If you think I'm done you should just forget that idea because I'm nowhere near close to being done with you."

"We're done," Burke says, trying to reach past her but she moves in front of the locks. "Cristina,"

"You were going to leave," she states matter of factly, "You told Shepherd to pass it on that we could still use the resort. There's boxes in the bedroom closet. You were going to leave."

Burke looks away from her, "It would have made things easier."

"You weren't going to tell me."

"Cristina," he starts but she cuts him off.

"You weren't going to tell me," Cristina repeats, glaring at him. "You were just going to disappear and never give it a second chance. Did you think you could just leave and that it would be like it never existed?"

"No," he argues, "No. That was not my intention at all. I wanted to make it easier-"

"Easier to deal with it if you don't have to look at me every day. You can pretend it never happened, that I was never a part of your life if you don't have to see me at work, if you don't have to face what you've done," she continues to ramble on, her anger and the minimal amount of alcohol in her bloodstream now fueling her.

"Precisely."

"You'll never be-" she stops when she hears him answer and she flinches at the word. "You wanted to forget me?"

"I didn't want to see you," he corrects her. "I didn't want to see you hurting."

For a split second, her eyes soften before they narrow again, "You know how to fix it."

Her words take him by surprise and he studies her. Cristina looks as tired as he feels and if it's this bad while she's off work he can only imagine what's going to happen when she comes back. As much as he wants to take it all back, as many times as he's pondered exactly what life would be like if he had simply listened to her that day, he knows that it wasn't the right thing to do and that it still isn't.

Cristina is speaking from a place of anger, from a place of hurt. She's not speaking with a clear mind and he's not thinking with one.

"Do you want to stay here?" Burke finally offers, "I can stay elsewhere if you'd rather have the apartment, if you're tired of staying over at Meredith's house."

"Or you could quit being a stubborn ass and stay here too."

"That wasn't what I asked you, Cristina."

A heavy sigh precedes her pressing her lips together and then shaking her head, "No. No way," she says, "Nu-uh. I'm not doing this. I'm not letting you do this."

"It's done."

She turns to open the door then, steps just outside it before she turns to look back at him. "This is far from being done," Cristina promises him before walking away.

Burke watches her go, ignoring the niggling feeling inside him to call back to her. He knows that if he gives her enough time that it will pass.

It has to.

"When I told you to fix it or get over it, I was really hoping that you'd go for getting over it," Alex complains from across the kitchen. He pours some milk into a bowl of cereal and then pulls the jug up to his nose when he sees a solid mass plop into the middle of his cheerios. "Son of a bitch. Whose turn is it to go to the grocery store?"

"Does it look like I live here?" Cristina asks, thankful that she doesn't do breakfast because she can smell the spoiled milk from where she's sitting.

"Yeah, right now you kind of do," he reminds her before dropping the entire bowl into the trash. It's not like Meredith will miss it. She'd have to do dishes in order to even be aware of said bowl. "Go get groceries."

"I don't do grocery shopping."

"No wonder he didn't want to keep you. You'd be a shitty ass wife."

If looks could kill, he wouldn't be dead but he'd be right there on the brink and feeling every last moment of it. She puts her coffee cup down so forcefully that the searing liquid spills over the top onto table, "What did you say?" Cristina heard exactly what he said but maybe he'd stop for one second and actually _think_ about what he said. She doesn't know what making him think about his words is going to do because it's not like he's going to actually apologize for it. That takes manners and being something other than a caveman which Alex is clearly not capable of.

"You heard me," he leers at her, "chill out, Yang. It was a joke."

"It's not funny."

Alex smirks, "Yeah, well, I thought it was." He pulls a piece of fruit from the bowl in front of her and sits across the table just to get on her nerves. "So what's your big plan? Are you going to moon over him from across the room like Meredith does? Share special moments in an elevator?" His words are mostly taunting, he doesn't really expect her to tell him.

"No, I'm going to make him realize he's a fucking idiot like the rest of the population carrying a 'y' chromosome," Cristina says plainly, reaching for a napkin to wipe up her coffee.

"Not all of us are fucking idiots."

"You are."

"You know," he says with a mouthful of apple, "I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard because he's really going to regret when he comes around and ends up stuck with you for the rest of his sorry life." It's Alex's way of encouraging her because he would never really come out and say that Burke will pull his head out of his ass and he'll never admit that he actually cares.

Cristina understands what he's saying perfectly but doesn't acknowledge it because she would never really tell Alex thank you for anything because he's evil spawn and a pain in her ass and she'll never admit that he gets her more than Meredith ever will.

"The residents come back today," Mark announces in an unusually gleeful tone for somebody who detests residents so much.

"They do," Addison says slowly with a brow arched high on her forehead, "Why are you so excited about that? You hate the residents, Mark."

"I do hate residents," he says, grinning from ear to ear, "but I love gossip and today is going to be _juicy_. I can feel it."

"Mark," she chides, hitting him across the chest, "you're wrong. That's wrong. There was a time where you were the center of hospital gossip. You shouldn't be encouraging it."

"Why not? There was a time where I was the center of hospital gossip. I should encourage it because everybody should know that pain if I had to," he's laughing now.

Addison shakes her head, "You're awful."

"You love it," he says over the lid of his cappuccino before taking a drink and recoiling at the warmth of the drink. "it's part of my irresistible charm."

"Oh, is that what you call that?"

"No, that's what everybody else calls it. I just call it being myself."

Addison can't help but smirk and she pushes his arm, less-than-gently trying to guide him away from the surgical board, "Go. This is not a soap opera. It is not for your entertainment. Go. There are people that are trying to get work done around here and you're obviously not one of them."

"I'm helping out by monitoring the board," he lies, still grinning, "keeping our new chief up to date on the latest information at Seattle Grace that could impede an easy transition into power, oh great one."

"Mark," she says warningly.

"Fine, fine, I'm going," he grumbles, reluctantly walking away.

He'll just find out from one of the nurses later on in the day.

After she's sure that he's gone, Addison turns back to the gathering group of interns before her and shows them to the locker room. She can only feel sorry for the interns that are assigned to Yang, unsure of what kind of mood that she'll be in. Addison already had her doubts about how she would treat interns in the first place but the current circumstances only make matters worse.

So does her decision to put Cristina on cardio today.

It wasn't exactly an attempt to get them back together or play matchmaker, rather she had decided early on to place each resident in their area of strength to put forward a good example for the interns. She could hardly excuse Cristina from setting that example by placing her on another service because of personal issues. Though it was hard for Addison to imagine Cristina Yang turning down a day on cardio because of any issues.

Instinct told her that the assignment wouldn't be a problem for the resilient Dr. Yang.

She quickly found that her instincts were correct. The residents stood gathered around her, receiving their assignments, the list of their interns' names. Cristina muttered something under her breath about being forced to take a handful of idiots when she could be working and Alex agreed with her in the same tone. Addison peered over red rimmed glasses at the residents before her, "Excuse me," she interrupted, her gaze leveling on O'Malley first, "correct me if I'm wrong but you were interns last year, were you not?"

A collective sigh comes from the group but no firm answers.

"And perhaps I'm still wrong but weren't you all involved in things like cutting LVAD wires?" Addison continues, her eyes meeting Izzie's.

"I wasn't," Alex announces proudly, earning an elbow to the ribs from Meredith.

"No, he just started a syphilis outbreak," Izzie snorts and holds up her hand to high five George who turns away.

"I _had_ syphilis," he reminds her in a sour tone and then glares at Alex.

"Dude, not my fault that you didn't use a condom."

"Hey," Cristina interjects, "Didn't he _give_ you a condom? It was in the tunnels. I remember it."

"Oh, you're right," Meredith follows suit, "It's kind of your fault, George."

"That's good, the one who got knocked up is handing out criticism for not using a condom," Izzie mocks loudly causing the rest of the residents to cringe which earns a defensive 'what' from her. When she finally realizes what it alludes to, she bites her lip, "Sorry."

"Whatever," Cristina mutters, looking over her intern list.

"Enough!" Addison snaps, "I'm not here to talk about your sexual histories. I'm here to hand out assignments. These are your interns. Be nice to them, nurture them, treat them better than you treat each other," she looks over the rag tag group, "Stevens, you're in the NICU, Karev in plastics, O'Malley you're with Bailey, Grey, you're with Shepherd-"

"Oh, can I trade with Cristina," Meredith quickly interrupts before Addison can even get the words out, "I really don't think working with Dr. Shepherd is a good idea today."

"I don't want to work with Shepherd," Cristina says with a sour look on her face, "I'm with Dr. Burke?"

Addison nods, "You're with Dr. Burke."

"Fine with me," she shrugs and leaves the group before the comments can start. She's already heard them talk and she doesn't care to hear any more. She has work to do and some of it has absolutely nothing to do with cardiac patients.

Meredith looks at Addison incredulously, "Seriously? Did you really do that to her?"

"Dr. Grey, I'd like to remind you that this is a hospital. While it was taken under consideration as far as I know Dr. Yang's target specialty is still cardiothoracics and it's still her strongest area. So unless you'd like to ask her to switch specialties, she's going to have to work with Dr. Burke," Addison lectures, "And you're going to have to work with Dr. Shepherd. I don't have time to sort out your love lives to make work easier for you. Now go, get your interns and be surgeons."

The group reluctantly breaks up, Alex and Meredith both looking in the direction that Cristina went. "If he breaks her more, I'm going to kill him," she says under her breath, fists clenched in her pocket.

"You can have seconds," Alex mutters.

Meredith looks up in surprise, "You're sticking up for Cristina?"

"What? No. I hate the guy. He's an arrogant asshole and he always has been. I wouldn't do anything for Yang, she's a bitch."

"Right," she smiles, "you're sticking up for her. You're sticking up for Cristina. That's good. It's a good thing, embrace it."

"Whatever," he mumbles before walking away from her.

Meredith smiles and wrinkles her nose a little at his back, content that she has somebody else to help watch out for Cristina with her. She has a feeling that things could be a little difficult at first for Cristina and Meredith needs all the help she can get.

"You're working with Yang today?"

It's really none of his business but Derek is in a foul mood and he doesn't care because Addison seems to be taking pleasure in his torture by placing Meredith on his service. In turn, however, it seems that she's at least spreading the love because the answer to his question comes as a small noise and a nod from his friend.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" He asks, trying to ease more information from the man.

Burke looks up at him from the chart that he's studying, "I'm working. This isn't about what's good or bad for me because at work what matters is what's good for the patients. Dr. Yang is good for my patients despite her lackluster bedside manner. So yes, it's a good thing that I'm working with her because I have several complicated patients that require her knowledge of cardiothoracics."

Derek grants him a smug grin, "How long did you practice that little speech?"

Unamused by his colleague's jokes, Burke walks away wordlessly. He hasn't seen her since their confrontation after Joe's and he only hopes that her demeanor is something akin to professional. He's certain that Cristina wouldn't air their proverbial dirty laundry in the hallways, however he's not convinced that she wouldn't be willing to do so behind closed doors.

He doesn't want to entertain such things. Burke has convinced himself that if he just gives her time the emotions will fade and she won't be so damn insistent about it, that she won't want it simply because of a near-instinctual reaction.

Cristina just needs time.

Maybe he does too.

When he sees her at the end of the hall, a couple of frightened interns scurrying to keep up with her in tow, he has to cough to cover a small grin of amusement. Burke's glad he's not one of them because he knows that she's going to make Bailey look soft.

"Dr. Yang," he greets in an even tone, one that betrays everything that he's feeling.

Cristina returns the greeting, her eyes lingering on his for a moment. She can see right through his attempts to hide his amusement at the prospect of somebody giving her a group of her very own interns to terrorize and she resists the urge to nudge him and tell him to shut up. "Interns," she grumbles under her breath.

"I see that, Dr. Yang. What are their names?"

She rolls her eyes and looks back at them, "Two, three. This is Dr. Burke, head of cardio. Tell him your names, get your patient lists and go get labs."

Already terrified of their resident, the young man with the mess of curly brown hair on his head introduces himself followed by the one that claims to be Meredith's sister. Cristina doubts that they're actually from the same bloodline because she's bubbly and smiley and looks like somebody more likely to be related to Izzie.

Once formalities are finished, the two scamper off and Cristina smirks when she sees Burke shaking his head, "What?"

"You have to give them a chance," Burke chides her softly, "they're going to want to quit by the end of the first forty-eight hours at the rate that you're going."

"Bailey never gave us a chance. You never gave George a chance," Cristina points out, "they're fine. And if they don't make it then, oh well. I hear that some of the medical interns didn't show up. I'm sure they'll have a promising career in geriatrics."

He says her name softly and it pulls at her insides just enough, "What do you want me to do?"

"There's a pre-op CABG in room 4221 that's going down in an hour. Go over any questions she may have and then bring one of your interns to scrub in. She's got severe triple vessel disease and a history of renal failure. I'm going to need all hands on deck for this one, she's going to be a messy case," he answers, glancing over his patient list.

"Yes, Dr. Burke," she answers, glancing up at him again. They both linger in the hallway for a moment, standing farther apart then lovers and too close to be colleagues. After a moment that lasts too long (or not long enough) Cristina turns to walk away from him but he calls after her.

"Yeah?"

Burke clears his throat and drops his voice before asking, "Are you okay?"

"No," Cristina mumbles quietly, "I'm not."

"Anything juicy yet?" Mark asks with a devilish grin, standing at the door of Addison's new office, "Day's almost over, something has to have happened by now."

"Nothing has happened and nothing is going to, Mark. Just leave it alone," She sighs, looking up at him.

"It's exciting," he continues, ignoring her pleas, "Yang is going to lose it anytime now."

"She never loses it," Addison scoffs, flipping through a file. If she's honest with herself, and a lot of times she isn't, she's just the slightest bit jealous of that particular aspect of Cristina's personality. She wishes that she could keep all of her emotions pent up.

At the same time, Addison also realizes how unhealthy it is.

"Which is why I can't wait to see this. I should start taking bets for how bad it's going to be. I've got $50 on her getting physical. I'd take $75 on actual tears if you're interested," he smirks, "c'mon, Addison. Where's your sense of humor?"

"And where's your sense of decency?" she asks, now angry with him, "I was her. When Derek left and the entire hospital knew about it, I was her. The only difference is that she didn't do anything wrong. It's not funny, it's not entertaining to watch and you're an asshole for even-"

"It was a joke," Mark interrupts.

"No, Mark. It's not a joke to you. Just…get out of my office," she finally mutters, looking back down to her files, "I have work to do."

Mark watches her, realizing the odds of getting her to join him for a drink at Joe's after work are now minimal.

"Mark," she says again warningly, "go. Now."

"Fine," he says, dropping his empty cup into her trash can, "I'm gone."

Meredith watches Cristina leave the cafeteria with her interns in tow. They've only been back to work for three days and she already seems to have them so terrified that they'll do whatever she says. For a moment she considers putting her own disasters through Cristina boot camp and then realizes they'd all probably just want to hug her or something when Cristina was done with them.

Hugging an intern isn't exactly on her list of priorities right now.

Alex drops his tray on the table and sinks into his chair, "How much longer until I can make them go do my shit and not have to worry about them killing my patients?"

"I'm not discussing the interns," she groans, stabbing a piece of pineapple, "we have other stuff to discuss anyway."

"Like what?" his mouth is full of a chicken salad sandwich and Meredith rolls her eyes at this. He's like the disgusting little brother she never had.

"Cristina. And the weird scary quiet thing she's doing."

His sandwich drops on the tray and he reaches for a napkin, "Who cares? It works for her, let it work. At least she's not mouthing off like she normally does. I can actually tolerate her this way."

"She says she's fine," Meredith says, her selective hearing in full force today, "which is normal for Cristina but then it's like she's hiding something from me."

"Maybe she's screwing him in between surgeries and everything is fine," Alex says, "Why does it matter? It's not your thing. It's hers."

Meredith makes a face at him, "She's not screwing him in between surgeries. She's got too many interns in tow to get away with it. And she's not doing it after work either. She's been home and tonight she's on call."

Alex neglects to tell Meredith that he traded call shifts with Cristina and shoves the rest of his sandwich into his mouth before she can ask any more questions. He makes a sound with his mouth full that sounds something like the word whatever and reaches for his water.

"I hate men," she finally mutters, "you all suck. Derek is being weird, Burke broke Cristina and you all suck."

"How would you know if I suck? You haven't dated me. I'm like the last living man that Meredith Grey hasn't dated," Alex smirks suggestively, "we can fix that if you want."

Her pager goes off and she pulls it from her waist, "Crap. My interns are trying to kill my crani. And I have not dated every living man on the face of the planet."

"Oh, you missed the state of Michigan?"

"I hate you," she sneers before picking up her tray, "pick up pizza or something on the way home. Izzie isn't in a cooking mood and I'm tired of frozen dinners."

He has no problem agreeing to the pizza since he isn't going to be home. "Sure thing," he answers, smiling inwardly.

Meredith is surprised at how easily he agrees but doesn't take the time to question it. She mumbles a quick goodbye and runs towards the neuro ICU praying that her patient is still breathing when she gets there.

She thinks as she hits the stairwell that maybe Cristina boot camp wouldn't be such a bad idea.

The sound of his trumpet fills her ears straight off the elevator and she follows it, stopping just short of their door. She closes her eyes a moment and listens, smiles when she realizes it's the song he'd always play for her. Cristina lingers at the door, her hand resting against the door knob as she takes it in.

It's obvious that he misses her as much as she misses him, especially now.

Cristina slowly unlocks the door to silence the click of the lock and she steps inside and closes the door behind her just as carefully. She stops there, watching him play, eyes closed and long fingers curled around the slightly battered golden frame.

She always teased him about how crappy his trumpet looked and he'd claim he liked the scratches and dents because it gave it character.

The music stops abruptly and it draws her away from the memory. When she looks up, he's looking at her with surprise painted in his features. She presses her lips together and shrugs her coat off, making clear her intentions to stay at least for a while. It drops on the floor next to the bureau and she crosses the floor slowly.

"Don't let me interrupt you. You can keep playing. I traded call shifts with Alex," she says casually, toeing off her shoes, "I like that song anyway."

"You always have," he says quietly, putting the trumpet aside, "what are you doing here?"

"Coming home," she breathes, sitting down on the couch and curling her legs under her.

"I told you that I'd-"

Cristina cuts him off before he suggests leaving the apartment for a second time, "It's not home if you're not here. Then it's just an apartment. I can get an apartment if I want." When he falters at her response she continues, seeing the opportunity to end this once and for all, "My favorite color is red."

This causes his eyebrow to raise high in confusion, "What?"

"My favorite color is red," she repeats, "From the time I was three until I started undergrad, I was in ballet. I rode horses in junior high and high school competitively and won awards for it. I flunked a test on purpose in seventh grade because I wanted to see what my mother would say if I was less than perfect and I wasn't allowed to date until I was seventeen."

"Cristina, what are you doing?" he sighs, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose to massage it gently, as if it will somehow ward off the impending headache.

"What are _you_ doing?" she throws back at him.

Burke drops his hand and stands up, "I need to go check on some patients."

She immediately gets up, blocks his path to the door, "You know, you never told me the little crap either. You never went on about your mother's restaurant or growing up in Alabama."

"You never asked."

"So what?" she snaps, "It's a one way street? It only applies to me and not you?"

"Cristina," he says again but she silences him once more.

"Does it change anything? Does it make a difference that my favorite color is red? Should it be pink or purple or clear? Does it clarify anything for you? Because for me it's just trivia. You know who I am and you know the woman you fell in love with. You know me Burke and you always have," she keeps her eyes fixed on his, trying to gauge his reaction.

Cristina is starting to think that he's even more stubborn than she is.

"Just stop," Cristina's voice has dropped, "so what if we didn't get married this time. There are other times and there's no rush. If you want to do the trivia thing, we can do the trivia thing. If you want to nitpick other aspects of our relationship, then we have time to do that."

"It's not about the little things, Cristina. It's the whole thing. The whole thing was wrong."

"Really?" she asks, stepping forward to put a hand around his neck and one against his chest. Rising to her tiptoes she brushes her lips against his, brief and tender and pulls away just a little, "then why does that feel right?"

Her intonation affects him in more than one way and his eyes darken slightly. Against his own will, his hand has come up to rest on her hip, thumb rubbing light circles just above the waistband of her jeans. "We can't do this, Cristina."

"We can do whatever we want," she murmurs, "I'm telling you that I want this."

"We want different things."

"We want different versions of the same thing. So we compromise," she suggests, "isn't that supposed to be some key element in the whole marriage thing? I wouldn't know seeing as I'm not married at the moment."

Her jab at him causes Burke to find the willpower to break away and he walks towards the door, "We're not discussing this anymore."

"And you call me closed off," she mutters under her breath, following him and picking her jacket up off the floor.

Burke chooses to ignore the comment, "Why don't you stay here tonight? I have business at the hospital anyway. Grey's house is-"

"Fine with me," Cristina says, pulling on her shoes. She bends to pick her coat up and then brushes past him. She's angry, frustrated and hurt all at the same time. She's starting to feel like it's some sort of punishment for making him play guessing games for so long.

"It will get easier," he promises her when she turns to look at him.

"Yeah," she mumbles, "sure."

"It will."

She starts to walk away from him and then stops to catch him still watching her. "My thing?" she says matter-of-factly, "The reason I wasn't coming down the aisle? The freakout?"

"What about it Cristina?" he sighs, tired of her fighting him. She's making this too hard for him.

"It was my vows," she holds up her hands as if they're somehow permanently engraved in her hand, "I scrubbed in on a surgery before the wedding. They were on my hand and I scrubbed them off. I didn't have any vows. That was my thing."

Cristina doesn't wait for his reaction or answer, she simply turns around and walks away. She's made her move, one of the only moves she's willing to make.

When he wants to fix it, he'll know where to find her.

Meredith springs off of the couch when Cristina walks in the door.

"It's late and you were supposed to be on call. Where the hell have you been?" she questions, almost causing Cristina to have flashbacks of high school.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had a curfew," Cristina states plainly, dropping her coat on the couch. "Why are you still awake? Don't you have early call?"

"You weren't answering your phone. You weren't at the hospital. I was-" Meredith pauses and then finally blurts out, "Are you screwing Burke and not telling me? Is this like some sort of breakup sex thing because if it is, I'm your person and you need to tell me these things."

Cristina snorts, "I need to tell you who I'm sleeping with and when I'm going to do it?"

"Yes," Meredith answers. Maybe it's irrational but she's irritated that Cristina seems to be hiding things from her and she's even more irritated that Alex seems to have known that Cristina was up to something.

He _is_ working her call shift tonight.

"We weren't having sex .We were talking. That's it," Cristina explains, "just talk. No sex. If I were having sex, I wouldn't have come back at all. I'd still be having sex."

"I didn't need that much detail."

"You don't need any details. It's my thing, this is my thing. I don't want to discuss it."

"Cristina, I tell you everything about Derek. Everything. That's what friends do," her voice is in a near whine and it's not just because Meredith wants in on the gossip. She feels like she's not doing anything to help her friend out, that she's just sitting back and watching the chaos unfold.

"What? Are you going to breakup with me now?" Cristina asks, "I'm fine with sleeping at the hospital. I don't need to stay here if the only thing you're interested in is me talking about missing Burke or how he's being stupid or whatever else. I don't discuss everything to death like you."

"Maybe if you got it out it wouldn't be a thing."

"It will be a thing until he pulls his head out of his ass. Me saying it to you isn't going to change anything. Talking about it isn't going to change anything. What will change things is if you quit acting different around me. I'm not fragile, I'm not broken like you think I am and I'm a big girl who can handle myself. Just…just stop," it's clear that Cristina's frustration with the situation is coming to a head. Her voice is firm and her tone angry and she's standing on the other side of the room.

Dealing with Burke is enough without listening to her friends ramble on about how Burke broke her. She's not broken; she's pissed off and in the process of trying to fix shit and her so-called friends definitely aren't making it any easier.

"Okay, fine. You're not broken," Meredith says, taking offense at the mini-tirade. "I'll quit caring."

Accepting this, Cristina sits next to Meredith, her hands folded in her lap. "Thank you."

"Whatever."

A soft sigh escapes Cristina's lips and she lays her head against Meredith's shoulder. Her eyes close and she admits just quietly, "I hate your house."

Meredith looks down at her friend before laying her head against her friend's, "I know you do."

"Dr. Karev."

Addison prolongs the word doctor, somehow indicating that he's in trouble. Alex is just about to round the corner and he wonders if he can get away with pretending that he didn't hear her. When he feels a finger in his back he knows that he took too damn long to figure it out and he spins to look at her.

"Yeah," he says, wincing at the sharp pain in his back. The call room bunks aren't exactly comfortable and her long pointy finger jamming into his spine wasn't exactly complimentary to his already stiff muscles.

"It's been brought to my attention that you weren't supposed to be working last week, something about coming in on mandatory time off," she says, her eyes dancing over some handwritten note. She looks up at him after skimming the note and falters slightly.

Even if he's an ass, he's still cute.

"You and I both know that's lame. It's a stupid rule. I was honing my skills. Trying to pick up tricks from Bailey before the new class came in," so it's a blatant lie, he doesn't care. He puts his hands on his hips, taking a defensive stance. He'll be damned if he's going to get sent home for a week.

"Yes, well, lame as the rules here may be, they're established for a reason, Dr. Karev."

"I already came back last week. Last week is over so what does it matter?"

Addison smirks, "There are fifty-two weeks in a year, Dr. Karev."

"Are you serious?" he asks angrily, "You're seriously going to make me go home?"

"Keep up that attitude and I just might," she says, "Actually, I was going to let you off the hook if you do something for me."

Alex fleetingly thinks that he could do a lot of things for her and then he remembers how that turned out last time. She wants things like commitment and barbeques and other shit he's just not capable of. Too bad, because she's hot. "What do you want?" he asks warily.

Addison lowers her voice and steps closer to him, like there's another person in the empty hallway that might here her. "Has Dr. Sloan had some sort of betting pool going on?"

"Betting pool?" Alex asks, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Maybe one about Dr. Yang?"

When Addison says something about it pertaining to Yang, he feels the slightest flash of anger and his fist clenches at his side, "I haven't heard anything about it. You want me to find out?"

"Please do," she says, stepping back. "Even better, put a stop to it."

"And I won't get a week off?" Alex asks.

"Shut it down and I'll give you a day on whatever service you want, no interns."

"Done," Alex says. He would have stopped it in the first place but he figures he may as well get something out of the deal besides just helping Yang.

"Good," Addison smiles, "thank you, Dr. Karev." She can't help staring a little as he walks away from her, remembering exactly what he's hiding beneath those scrubs. She thinks to herself that she wouldn't mind seeing it but just as quickly reminds herself that she's the chief of surgery.

Playtime is over for her.

Cristina slumps over the desk and buries her head in her arms, trying her best to stay awake. She hasn't slept well in at least a month and she figures that at some point she'll just collapse in exhaustion. Today may actually be the day it happens

Or at least she's hoping so. Sleep would be nice.

"I told you that I'd watch your interns," Meredith nudges her, "go steal one of the call rooms in derm where nobody will find you and sleep."

"I can't," she groans, "I have an ablation at ten and a valve replacement at three."

"You're going to fall asleep in the middle of Burke's open chest. I guess that's one way of getting revenge."

"I don't want revenge. I want sleep."

Meredith glances at the clock, "I think you need to take your day off tomorrow instead of coming in. You're going to kill someone. Or yourself, which trust me, isn't nearly as appealing as it sounds. I know, I tried."

"Not funny," Cristina comments dryly.

"I thought it was."

"Thinking clearly isn't one of your stronger areas. You should stick to sleeping with inappropriate men and tequila. 

No matter how hard she tries to act indignant over the comment, Meredith can't hide a small giggle at it. Her eyes trail across the hall and she sees Alex standing in front of the surgical board going off on one of his interns.

He'd definitely be inappropriate.

"Has Alex been nice to you lately?" Meredith asks Cristina, not really looking away from him.

"Evil spawn?" Cristina asks, "No, he's still himself. Why would he be nice?

Cristina knows that she's not exactly being truthful but his pity doesn't come across as pity so she doesn't really care if he does it. His pity is more a special brand of asshole that he reserves for people when he knows that they can't tolerate his typical personality.

Or at least that's how Cristina likes to think of it.

"I don't know. I guess because of everything," she mumbles, "he seems different."

"He's not. He's Alex. He'll always be Alex," Cristina groans, forcing herself out of her chair. "I have to go. I have patients to prep and interns to deal with. Don't wait up for me tonight. This valve is going to take forever. She's a disaster waiting to happen."

"I still think you're sleeping with him."

"Meredith," Cristina sighs, "just drop it. There's nothing going on. Nothing is going to go on. It's over.

The words suck coming out but Cristina is actually starting to believe them. She leaves after saying it, hiding any expression of hurt or disappointment at the open admission. Exhaustion has the best of her right now and she definitely isn't going to let emotion take advantage of that.

Meredith hears the pain in Cristina's voice when she says the words but it doesn't stop her from leaving. She watches her with softened eyes as she leaves and as she's turning back to look at her chart, she sees Burke with that same pain in his eyes.

"Ass," she mutters in his direction before snatching the chart up and walking away.

Burke clearly makes out the word and isn't the least bit offended by it. He feels like a complete ass and he's not really sure how to make it any better.

Nobody can change the past.

"How much money you got in this thing?" Alex asks, peering over Mark's shoulder as he thumbs through a stack of twenty dollar bills.

"It's twenty to buy in," Mark grins, pausing in his count, "right now I'm sitting at about five hundred. The nurses are all over the action. Why? You want in?"

Alex reaches into the pocket of his pants and pulls out his wallet, "You said five?"

"Are you deaf, Karev?"

Throwing down five one-hundred dollar bills, Alex delivers a challenging glance, "No, I'm just surprised that it's that pathetic. I've got five that they'll be commandeering a call room by the end of the week and that your little meltdown never happens."

Mark snorts and pushes the money back towards him, "Don't be stupid, Karev."

Pushing the money back towards him, Alex lowers his voice. "You're the one who's stupid. My bet stands. You take the money and keep it quiet or I swear to God, you'll regret it."

"Really? And what are you going to do?"

"Gambling on hospital property and sexual harassment aren't really things that the Board of Healing Arts expects out of doctors. Right now they don't know about it," Alex says, "I'm sure you'd like to keep it that way."

Anger flashes through Mark's expression, "What the hell are you playing at, Karev?"

Alex smirks and shoves his hands in the pocket of his lab coat, "Nothing. I'm just looking to make some extra cash. Keep it quiet," he reminds him and then stops short of leaving his office, "by the way, my bet is the last."

It's not _exactly_ shutting it down but it's making Sloan eat his words and it's earning him some extra cash.

It's what Alex would call a win-win situation.

Cristina shifts uncomfortably next to Burke while he speaks to the family of their valve replacement. The only thing she wants to do is crash in the nearest call room and she can't because there are post op notes and incident reports and all kinds of other various paper work to fill out because the patient had to go and die on the table.

Once the family is consoled and filled in on the details, Cristina reluctantly follows him back to his office. She fills out her report in silence and he fills out his. She can feel him staring at her every once in a while and she glances up to catch him a couple of times. It's like he wants to say something but he's not saying it which is something that he never does.

Not often, anyway.

Right now, she's too tired to deal with any of it so she tries to focus on her paperwork through heavy eyelids and hopes that her writing is at least halfway legible because legal is going to chew her ass if it isn't. Her eyes are burning and she's signing her name and she stops for just a second to rest her eyes and uses the back of her arm to cover a yawn.

"Go to sleep, Cristina," Burke finally says, "You can finish this Friday morning. I'll pull you off of trauma to my service so you can."

"I'm fine," she mumbles groggily and goes back to writing.

"Are you?" This time he's not referring to the paperwork but to the state of things overall. Burke braces himself for her answer, feels guilty that he wants it to be no. He's not fine and he doesn't think that he will be anytime soon. He's not ready for her to be fine either, even though he deserves it.

She deserves it too, just in a different way.

"I'm tired," she answers honestly, signing her name and putting the paper on top of his desk, "Meredith snores and the couch isn't comfortable." It's partially the truth. She leaves out the part about having a hard time sleeping in an empty bed after growing so used to him being next to her, having his arm draped over her waist.

There was a time before when they weren't in the best of places and she remembers being equally exhausted. There was a resolution then and while she still wants one, she doesn't know that it will ever come.

"I can see where that would present a problem. I've told you that you can sleep at the apartment," Burke reminds her, "it's not an issue, Cristina. Actually, I'd prefer it."

He'd prefer to be there with her.

"I told you that it's not-" she stops short of finishing her sentence, too tired to really complete the thought. "I'm not going anywhere tonight. I'm staying here."

"Aren't you off tomorrow?"

"What? Are you following my schedule now?"

"Perhaps," he admits shamelessly, "Just because things happened the way that they did doesn't mean that I don't care about you." That he doesn't still love her and worry about her, that he doesn't look forward to the days that he can see her even if he isn't with her.

Cristina looks up at him, exhaustion starting to break through the last bit of resolve she has, "Funny. You don't act like it."

"Despite your perception of my actions, I do."

"Yeah, well," she mutters as she stands, "I'm too tired to deal with it right now."

Burke lets go of the subject, he's not going to try to convince her of anything right now. "Go on," he urges softly, "go get some rest. I can finish this up."

It doesn't take more than that for Cristina to leave his office and seek out a call room. Burke takes his time getting back to the paperwork, letting his mind wander for far too long. The clock drags on slowly as he finishes up the last of the incident reports and places them neatly in the bottom drawer of his desk. He reaches for his car keys and decides against going home for the night when he sees how late it is.

He has an early case in the morning anyway.

It's not his intention to find the call room that Cristina's in though he's curious to see if she's actually getting some rest. The first two doors are locked and there's a slight pang of jealousy at the notion because it used to be them locking doors and doing anything except sleeping in those rooms. When he comes to the third one, it's dim except for the bit of light filtering through the blinds from the parking lot.

Cristina is lying across the bottom bunk with her arm over her eyes and she sighs heavily, "Taken. Find another one."

"Sorry," Burke's voice is quiet as he lingers by the door, "You should be sleeping."

"I was until you walked in," she lies, rolling onto her side and away from him.

"You don't sound like you were sleeping."

"I was," Cristina mutters, annoyed.

"You weren't," he answers, turning the lock on the door against his better judgment. Burke removes his shoes and sits on the edge of the bunk, "when you're sleeping, it's almost impossible to wake you up."

"Sleeping patterns change."

Burke looks at her back, reaches out and runs his fingers through her hair. Rather than pulling away when her muscles seem to tense, he continues, gently tracing his fingers through the curls. When she relaxes, he murmurs a soft apology.

Cristina's eyes burn and this time it has nothing to do with exhaustion but she considers it a side effect anyway, "It's fine."

"It's not fine," he says, "we're not fine. Neither one of us. And that's my fault."

Of course he'd have to pick now to finally want to talk when she wants nothing other than to be comatose for at least a couple of hours. She rolls onto her side to look at him through tired eyes, "Yeah," she says warily.

"I don't know how to fix it."

"Burke?"

"Yes, Cristina?" His voice is timid at best, a tone that such an assured man hardly uses. It's amazing the things that she has done to him, the things that he'll do for her. It's amazing even more to him that she's even talking to him, all things considered.

"Can we just go to sleep and talk about it tomorrow?" She asks. It's her way of telling him to stay without really asking him because there's no way he's off the hook for all of it but she's too damn tired to deal with it now.

Burke understands immediately and stretches out next to her. Gingerly, he pulls her into his arms and resumes playing with her hair as she rests against him. "We can talk about it tomorrow."

"When I wake up, I'm so kicking your ass," she adds tiredly.

There's a rumble in her ear when he chuckles and when he agrees to her terms, she's already half asleep.

Alex throws back a beer and stretches his legs out onto the coffee table. He tosses the cap into a bowl of year-old potpourri and smirks when Meredith gets all indignant about it. "It's not like it actually smells like anything anymore."

"That's not true. Izzie sprayed it with something a few months ago," she says the word months in a half mumble and opens her own beer.

"You're so full of shit," he says with a smirk and puts his beer aside. Alex isn't sure if it's the beer talking (they've nearly finished two six-packs between the two of them) but he's actually enjoying his time with Meredith.

He usually does though.

"You're being nice to Cristina," Meredith says, "you'll deny it but you are. And I like that you're nice to her because she won't let me."

Alex would argue that he's not being nice to her but he hates that he's so damn predictable to Meredith, especially when he's drunk. Rather than responding to the accusation he changes the subject, "Shepherd is dating a scrub nurse."

"And Ava is gone," Meredith grumbles, irritated by the sudden subject changes.

"Relationships suck."

"I'll drink to that," she raises her beer and clinks the neck to his. Their eyes meet for a minute and let them linger too long before they awkwardly pull away.

Once again, Meredith finds herself thinking that Alex is most definitely considered to fall into the inappropriate category and the idea excites her and scares her all at the same time. So much would change if she went _there_, it wouldn't be like it was with George where he walked around with a wounded puppy and then finally admitted wrongdoing.

Alex would just hate her forever and she doesn't really want that.

"Where the hell is Cristina?" she finally asks, changing the subject once more.

"I told you," he answers, his voice weak after taking a long drink, "she's sleeping with him."

Cristina has been awake for a while now but she hasn't moved an inch. A remote part of her brain keeps telling her that she's still sleeping and that they're not actually lying together, that they didn't sleep together. The part of her brain that isn't obviously delusional simply doesn't want to move because it feels too good to be here.

"We should get up," his voice is a deep rumble and she exhales softly.

She's always liked the sound of his voice when he wakes up, the timbre there. Cristina buries her face against his arm and shakes her head a little, "In a minute," she mumbles, "I'm still too tired to kick your ass."

Burke smiles slightly and brushes his lips against her forehead, "Maybe you should eat first. You're going to need all the energy you can get," there's something slightly suggestive in his voice, definitely playful and it makes Cristina wish that they could skip the part where they have to talk about it and just move on.

Cristina also knows that he'd never let that happen.

Lifting her head, she looks at him, runs a fingertip down the side of his cheek and feels the slight stubble there. "What? And give you a chance to run?"

"I'm not running," he promises her and the statement has duel meaning, even if part of it is just their little joke.

"Are you sure?"

"I've always been sure. I just wanted you to be."

And now they have to talk about it. She presses her palm into the bed and sits up, looking down at him. "I told you I was, you just weren't listening."

His hand covers hers and there's genuine sorrow in his eyes. It's not like it's hard to tell that he's sorry, she only wishes there was a way to tell that he's never going to do it again, that there was some sort of guarantee that she'd never have to worry about problems and that they could just be content and cut open chests for the rest of their lives with no other issues.

She knows that's not really how marriage works, how any relationship works. They'll have issues, she just doesn't want him to run from him. Besides, she's supposed to be the one that avoids shit. Not him.

"I'm sorry," Burke murmurs, "I know it isn't enough."

Cristina smiles faintly, turns her palm up beneath his hand. "It's fine," it's not but it's her standard line and her way of half accepting his apology, "you'll only be making it up to me for the rest of our lives."

Mark stares in disbelief as a disheveled looking Yang steps out of the call room, Burke in tow. "You knew something," he mutters at Alex, cash clenched in the fist that's jammed into his lab coat.

"What the hell was I supposed to know? It's not like I'm friends with either one of them," Alex answers, putting his hand out. "Pay up."

There's hesitation in his steely blue eyes and for a second he considers only giving back the money that Karev put in. He's still sure that Karev was cheating somehow and when he figures it out, he's going to kick his ass. "Double or nothing that they fight by the end of the week."

"No deal. Pay up old man." 

"Hey," Mark replies, offense painted all over his face, "who are you calling old?"

"Dude."

"Fine," the older man mutters, shoving the roll of bills into his hand, "but this isn't over, Karev."

Alex thumbs through the bills, counts a little bit over a thousand dollars. "I thought I told you to shut it down?"

"Do you really want me to take the money back, Karev?"

"Hell no," he's already got the money in his wallet.

"Then shut the hell up and get out of my sight." Mark is being a sore loser now but Alex doesn't care because he's a thousand dollars richer and he has plans tonight.

"So that's it?" Meredith asks, "You're not going to make him suffer? Make him beg?"

"Oh, I did. I am. I will," Cristina smirks but she doesn't elaborate on exactly what happened to cause them to be so late for their surgery. Her smirk turns into a full blown grin when she remembers the look on his face when she turned him down for sex.

"I'm not asking."

"That's good," she says, pulling her pager as it alarms from her pocket, "because I'm not telling. I've gotta go. 911 for my AVR."

Meredith doesn't let her go so easily, "So you're not coming home tonight?" She doesn't add that she's liked having Cristina there and that having her gone means that she's going to have to deal with the whole Derek thing for real.

"No," Cristina answers, slamming shut her chart and tucking it under her arm. "I'm _going_ home."

It's bittersweet when she watches her walk away and Meredith turns back to her own work. She doesn't really want to do anything now except sulk and feel sorry for herself. She knows that she should be happy for Cristina but right now she just doesn't have it in her.

Fortunately, Alex seems to have a plan for that. "Hey," he says in a low voice, pushing her chart closed in front of her, "we're going out tonight. Somewhere besides Joe's."

"What?" The suggestion throws Meredith off but intrigues her at the same time, "Where the hell are we going?"

Alex tosses the cash down in front of her with a smug grin, "Wherever the hell we want to."

Addison watches from her office window as Preston and Yang walk through the hospital parking lot, his arm wrapped around her shoulders and hers around his waist. They're smiling and talking and it makes her smile to herself.

It's about time that the man came to his senses.

She wraps her arms around herself, turns away from the window after they're in their car and leaving. It was her hope that this job would somehow fulfill her and give her that one thing that she seemed to be missing but so far it's not helping at all.

Derek clears his throat from the doorway, drawing her from the thoughts that she seems to be always lost in.

"Oh, hey," she says, "what's going on?"

He shakes his head, steps inside her office and glances around, "Nothing. I just thought I'd look in on you."

This earns a weak smile from Addison and she settles into her chair, "Not much to look in on. Just working."

"Yeah," Derek says, a slight sparkle in his eye, "how would you like to do something other than work? Maybe a drink at Joe's? Dinner out somewhere?"

"Aren't you dating that nurse?" Addison asks warily, "I don't think she'd like you hanging out with your ex-wife. As a matter of fact, I know she wouldn't because we've already been through this with Meredith."

"It's a rumor," he answers, "nothing more."

"I don't get it, Derek. What are you up to?"

"Obviously losing my touch," he groans softly.

Addison laughs softly and though she'll never give Derek another chance, especially when he's only coming to her because he doesn't anybody else, she'll never pass up an opportunity to take pity on him. "It's no wonder you're single," she jabs, throwing her bag over her shoulder, "you're buying."

"It's a deal," Derek smiles, stepping back as she pulls her door closed and locks it, "After you, Chief."

The title never gets old and even though Addison hasn't found exactly what she's looking for yet, it is rewarding to finally get the one-up on Derek.

Cristina's breath tickles his ear and she kisses just below it, swirls her hips seductively against his. This earns a stifled groan from him and she moves her lips up to brush over his ear, "How stupid are you to almost give _this_ up?"

There are emptied cartons of Chinese on the coffee table, an empty bottle of wine lying on the floor and clothes scattered across the kitchen table. They figure eventually that they'll make it to the bedroom but right now they have other priorities and lost time to make up for.

Burke kisses his way down her neck and his hands grip her hips tightly. He doesn't take the time to answer because he's not interested in talking right now. When he kisses her passionately, she thinks that she gets the point because she pushes him back until her body is hovering over his. Cristina knows how much he regrets the past week and how much he wants to take it all back and that's the only thing that matters.

_My love_

_You know that you're my best friend._

_You know that I'd do anything for you._

"Thank you for coming with me."

"Whatever," Alex says, "You know I hate this crap. I only came because I know you won't let me take that dress off later if I didn't. And the free booze."

"You're damn right I wouldn't," Meredith answers with a cute grin and a wrinkled nose, "get me another drink?"

"Fine but you're not getting trashed. Yang will never shut up about it if you do." 

"I told you that you care about Cristina," she looks over in Cristina's direction. It's weird seeing her so smiley like that but she guesses that's what women look like when they get married, even if it is at City Hall.

"Shut up," Alex sneers.

Meredith kisses him, tangles her fingers into his hair and tugs gently at it. "I'll shut you up."

"Deal," he mumbles into her mouth and returns the kiss.

_And my love_

_Let nothing come between us_

_My love for you is strong and true_

There are people staring at them but Cristina doesn't care. They can stare all they want because she doesn't have to say anything at all, she doesn't have to make declarations. The only thing she has to do is look hot and dance with her husband.

It was his idea, the whole reception thing. In exchange, they had their quiet ceremony at City Hall with only Meredith and his best friend from college.

Different versions of the same thing.

"So how long do we have to stay at this thing?" she asks, mostly serious because the dancing and the talking and the kissing is having an effect on both of them in a profound way. Her fingers curl around his neck and she kisses him, the best way she has to publicly convince him to give up the dancing and take her home for something much more vigorous that involves far less clothing.

"Keep doing that," he murmurs against her lips, "and we're not even going to make it to the hotel."

"Is that a promise?" Cristina grins because now she wants to keep doing it just to see where they'll end up.

Burke has to pull away from her before he loses it altogether, "Do you really want to do this for the first time in the car?"

"It's not the first time. That was a long time ago."

"It's the first time I'm making love to my wife," he utters in a low voice, his fingertips tracing patterns on her low back through the soft chiffon of her red dress.

Cristina knows what he was referring to and she'll never tell him how she finds it at least a little bit endearing but mostly funny. She's pretty sure that she's the husband in their relationship but she doesn't mock him for it.

At least not today.

She's got the rest of their lives to do that.


End file.
